Darryl Sterdan, QMI Agency

He’s still not backing down. Or selling out, more importantly. Nearly four decades into his recording career, 63-year-old Floridian Thomas Earl Petty steadfastly remains one of the most defiantly stubborn SOBs ever to strap on a Rickenbacker. Not coincidentally, he’s also one of the most solidly dependable artists around. Hypnotic Eye, his 13th studio album with the Heartbreakers (and 16th overall), is distinguished not only by what it embraces, but also by what it almost-pointedly ignores. Unlike the work of far too many of Petty’s increasingly desperate contemporaries, this disc features no superstar producers with cartoon names, no country/EDM/hip-hop crossovers, no celebrity cameos, no high concepts, no gigantic radio-ready hits. Hell, it doesn’t even have a picture of the man himself on the front cover — or a song that mentions the title. What it does have, thankfully, is about 45 minutes of Petty doing precisely what he was put on this planet to do: Play simple, straightforward, slow-burning meat-and-potatoes heartland rock with plenty of rootsy jangle — and this time around, with dashes of blues, some garage-rock, an occasional Latin groove and even a bit of punchy spy-movie twang. All of it is performed (and was presumably penned) on old-fashioned instruments: Electric guitars, real drums, piano and organ, a harmonica now and then. Some of it deals with the death of the American dream, the corrupting influence of power and wealth, the disenfranchisement of survivalists and extremists, even the hypocrisy of religion and pedophile priests. But mostly, it continues to chronicles the lives of guys like Petty: Guys who never seem content and settled. Guys who always seem to be looking for something they can’t quite find, be it love, success, or understanding. Guys who don’t give a damn about what you or anybody else thinks. And guys who stand their ground even when it’s giving way beneath their feet, and who aren’t going down without a fight. Once again, the secret weapons in Petty’s arsenal are his bandmates — chiefly lead guitarist Mike Campbell and keyboardist Benmont Tench, whose stellar performances elevate these tracks far beyond their basic structures and classic approach (though Ron Blair’s fluid basslines, drummer Steve Ferrone’s in-the-pocket understatement and Scott Thurston’s solid riffs and blues harmonica also deserve mention). But as always, Petty is the guy who commands your attention with his snarling drawl, his sneering lyrics, and the fire in his belly. You’ll know it; it matches the one in his eye.

NOW HEAR THIS

Bleachers

Strange Desire

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Fun.’s Jack Antonoff is making his own … you know. And heading back to the ’80s to do it. The singer-guitarist’s new solo project preserves the buoyant beats and soaring melodies of his chart-topping day job, but too often filters them through the gloomier vibes, beatboxes and chillier keyboard tones of classic synth-pop. He may still be young, but his music feels older. And decidedly less … you know.

The Antlers

Familiars

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Recognizable but hardly mundane. The gently glimmering expanses, majestically mournful horns and soothingly soaring falsetto of the Brooklyn indie-pop balladeers’ fifth outing may not break much new ground. But the lush beauty of their Death Cabby dreamscapes remains far too uplifting ever to become commonplace. Get acquainted if you haven’t already.

Eno • Hyde

Someday World | High Life

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Once was not enough for Brian Eno and Karl Hyde. So the legendary producer and the Underworld vocalist have joined forces on two albums that groove in the hypnotic sweet spot between electronica and Afrobeat. Someday World is slightly warmer and song-oriented while High Life is weirder and experimental — but both are far more organic than you’d expect from these guys.

Rise Against

The Black Market

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You grow up. But you don’t have to calm down. Not if you’re these Chicago punks, anyway. Some 15 years and seven albums in, Tim McIlrath and co. still have the same drive — coupled with the expertise and maturity that come with experience. The downside: Their generic arena-rock fare and anthemic choruses are more standard-issue that standard-bearing.

Sturgill Simpson

Metamodern Sounds in Country Music

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Cosmic American music for — and from — a new generation. Mixing metaphysical lyrics about aliens and alternative spirituality with psychedelic production textures and the classic country twang of his guitar and baritone pipes, newcomer Simpson is one part Waylon Jennings, one part Shooter Jennings — and one of the most interesting new voices coming out of Nashville.

Sumo Cyco

Lost in Cyco City

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“My name is rock ’n’ roll,” claims Sumo Cyco singer Sever. Actually, neither of those handles is true. Sever is really singer Skye Sweetnam. And while this debut disc from her Toronto band does indeed rock — and even does some serious headbanging — the 26-year-old singer hasn’t lost her knack for crafting a big pop hook or a singalong chorus. Call that (or her) what you will.

Rebirth Brass Band

Move Your Body

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You know what dancing leads to. If not, RBB will set you straight. The long-serving New Orleans outfit’s latest serves up another feast of bumptiously funky second-line grooves, brash brass and party-hearty jams about rockin’, rollin’ and (ahem) “hot-butt naked sex.” Of course, there’s also some gospel salvation to be had — because you know where all that sinning leads.

Kasai Allstars

Beware the Fetish

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Sometimes, bigger is better. The super-sized African supergroup up the ante on their second release in the acclaimed Congotronics series. While this one’s title is shorter — their last album was called In The 7th Moon, The Chief Turned Into a Swimming Fish and Ate The Head of His Enemy By Magic — their artistic sensibilities remain just as outsized, with more than a dozen musicians and singers conjuring up 112 minutes of hypno-grooves, lilting guitars and call-and-response tales of evil leopards, ancient ancestors and he who makes bush fires for others. As magical as it sounds.

BOX SET OF THE WEEK

Monty Python’s Flying Circus

Total Rubbish: The Complete Collection

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And now for something completely … well, complete. More or less. Timed to coincide with the British comedy troupe’s much-ballyhooed London reunion shows, this handsome nine-CD set is the most comprehensive compendium of Python assembled — more than nine hours of surreal (and extremely silly) sketches and songs about dead parrots, cross dressing lumberjacks, knights who say ‘Ni!’, Aussie philosophers named Bruce and spam, spam, spam, spam, lovely spam (nudge nudge, wink wink). The set list includes their early ’70s studio albums, based heavily around their legendary BBC series; their groundbreaking three-sided release Matching Tie & Handkerchief; their performance albums Live at Drury Lane; the companion discs to the films Holy Grail, Life of Brian and The Meaning of Life, all of which include material that wasn’t on the screen; and their fittingly titled 1980 swan-song studio set Contractual Obligation Album. Even better: Nearly every disc includes bonus material, including outtakes, interviews, demos, commercial promos and a plethora of material from the lengthy CO sessions. And it all comes housed in a sturdy slipcover designed and illustrated by Terry Gilliam, along with a 64-page hardcover book with liner notes and more artwork, plus a vinyl single of The Lumberjack Song. Despite the box’s title, it’s not quite everything — their other live album is omitted (presumably due to redundancy), the legally contentious Farewell to John Denver remains MIA, and a pair of tunes included as bonus fare on another comp aren’t included. But what did you expect? The Spanish Inquisition?

It’s been a long time coming. In more ways than one. This 19-disc box set of the artist formerly known as Cougar’s major-label catalog was slated for release last year, and was bumped several times since. Now that it’s finally arrived, it’s hard to fathom the delay. All that’s inside the squat package are the discs — from 1979’s semi-eponymous John Cougar all the way to 2010’s blues travelogue No Better Than This — sheathed in bare-bones, black-bordered cardboard sleeves. The dozen bonus cuts sprinkled in the set are all live recordings, acoustic versions and remixes from 2005 reissues. There’s no DVD, no book, no lyrics, no poster, nada. And it’s not like there isn’t room; the box has about an inch of empty space on either end (presumably to fit Mellencamp’s last name on the front in large type). That’s the bad news — along with the inexplicable $150 price tag. The good new: With over 200 tunes — including more immortal hits than I could list here — this has virtually all the Mellencamp you’ll ever need. And there is a cheaper alternative: The $30, five-disc 1982-1989, which focuses on the roots-rocker’s commercial peak with American Fool, Uh-Huh, Scarecrow, Lonesome Jubilee and Big Daddy. That won’t hurt so bad.

Miles Davis

Miles at the Fillmore 1970: Bootleg Series Vol. 3

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If any musician was built for the CD box set, it’s Miles Davis. Restlessly prolific and forcefully creative, the temperamental trumpeter’s epic-length performances could seldom be fully captured or contained by the limited running time of vinyl. Especially once he cast off the shackles of traditional jazz to invent fusion with his game-changing 1970 watershed Bitches Brew. Miles at the Fillmore is just the latest in a long line of long-overdue restoration projects. Heavily truncated versions of this four-night stand at Bill Graham’s New York venue were first released on a double-LP back in the day, then on CD in the ’90s. But only now are we hearing the full deal. This four-disc set contains the complete shows from every night — more than 100 minutes of previously unreleased fare from a fully charged Davis and a dynamic, driving band that includes drummer Keith Jarrett, electric pianist Chick Corea and organist Keith Jarrett (the latter two only played together for a few months, making these recordings extra-historic). Extras include three songs from the Fillmore West that year, along with a 32-page book and fold-out poster.

Anti-Nowhere League

We Are the League … Un-Cut

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Still in a league of their own. Thankfully. More than 30 years after their debut disc was seized by the cops for its disgusting lyrics, the uncompromising British punks finally have the last words — most of which are unprintable, natch — with this uncensored version of their menacing, misogynist and misanthropic masterpiece. Not for the humourless. Or anyone else, really.